


I'll dream you wide awake

by Natterina



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories, Pre-Kingdom Hearts II, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natterina/pseuds/Natterina
Summary: Sora’s fingers close around nothing but air, and Riku disappears on the breeze.AU where Sora finds Riku in his dreams during the year of sleep.





	I'll dream you wide awake

**Author's Note:**

> Title name is from the Poets of the Fall song 'Dreaming Wide Awake' which, of course, I was listening to for most of this. Enjoy!

He knows he is dreaming from the moment he opens his eyes.

The world is blurred, that strange sort of mist that hovers around everything near him, and Sora can’t focus on anything enough to stop the blur. The building ahead is both focused and unfocused, his eyesight zooming on one particular aspect that never quite comes into view correctly.

He realises he has no idea where he is.

But he walks. The world is grey and misty and then it blows up in colour, and Sora is no longer standing on an empty street but on the beach. But still, nothing comes into focus and as he looks around it changes again, marble white walls that he cannot look at properly and blonde hair at the edge of the tunnel.

He panics, his heart rate rising, before the world goes black.

* * *

He wakes again in a playground, and Sora is three years old and throwing sand at someone older than him, but the boy has no face and he recoils, terrified. He is five years old and knocking on a door with that same boy beside him, and the breeze is cold but fake but Sora knows they are knocking because they want to be friends.

He is eight years old and wondering what a kiss feels like, leaning forward with lips pressed tightly together towards the silver boy, and they are red faced and embarrassed and they silently agree to never speak of it again.

The world shifts, and Sora is ten years old and running down the beach, a hand in each of his own as they fall to the sand in a tangle of limbs, a blur of red and silver and brown, of freckles and tanned skin and sunburn. The sun sets as they doze, and then Sora is falling through the sand down, down, _down_.

He is thirteen and sparring on the beach, fourteen and sunburned with blisters on his hands, nearly fifteen and reaching through the darkness for a hand that beckons him, landing hard on the ground of a darkened room as the boy before him shatters into a face unknown.

He lands near the ruins of a castle and _runs_ , unsure of why and with no idea where to go. The area around him is still misty but green, wooden slats beneath his feet as he flees from and towards the unknown. He turns a corner and sees a man, all clad in red with orange eyes flashing, and Sora feels the breath knocked out of him as he comes to a halt.

Blonde blurs before his eyes, followed by red and silver and gold and blue, and he remembers _his_ name.

* * *

The faces come in later, as his memories flit around and change his environment.

They are on the tree on the play island, innocent and laughing in the breeze and the sun, as the red-haired girl throws a paopu at them playfully. He’s in the tree house, fingers still sticky from the fruit as the silver-haired one laughs and tackles him to the ground.

They fall through, and Sora turns to find himself at the bottom of a large waterfall, his keyblade in hand before he staggers forward, and finds himself once more on the stained glass tower.

People flash before him, faces and names he cannot remember and cannot retain, and Sora feels sick as he is caught in a crowd. Neon buildings flash before him, the lights bright and loud and _buzzing_ , but he no longer recognises the blond with the long sword or the kind lady in the pink dress. All he wants is _home_ , his island, and to be able to sit on the tree trunk without a fear of the world being pulled out from under him. He wants to remember the easy smile of the silver-haired boy, without the world inverting the moment he recognises it.

Teal eyes flash in front of him, and the crowd evens out. The world is dark and eerie, though the neon lights still flicker. It feels steadier than it has in ages, but Sora still doesn’t recognise most of the people around him. He passes through them like smoke, intangible forms he cannot touch and which wither as he goes through them.

And then there, in the distance, a familiar crop of silver hair, and Sora nearly laughs with relief at the sight. The sight of the long black coat makes him smirk, vague memories of early teenage angst and the briefest of periods where they wore only black rising to his mind.

He pushes forwards, uncaring of the other forms, because he cannot _remember_ this version of this boy and it seems _wrong_ , an unknown, and he wonders if he is finally awake.

He reaches out, fingers stretching for the wrist, and as he does so the name clears in his mind.

“Riku!”

His hand grasps the wrist and, for a beautiful _clear_ moment, everything comes into focus. Riku is there, solid and real and before him, and the relief lifts his heart out of the misery he has lived in for who knows _how_ long.

But then Sora’s fingers close around nothing, and Riku disappears on the breeze, wisp and smoke and _gone_.

But he remembers his _name_.

* * *

Somewhere in The World that Never Was, Riku wanders the streets with Pluto at his side.

He is careful to mask every sound he makes; he breathes slowly and shallowly, so as to not obscure his own hearing, and his steps are light despite the heavy boots. Pluto seems to understand, for the dog has not so much as growled in any direction since they arrived, and he is remarkably obedient considering Riku is not his owner.

They are close to the castle, and Riku is fairly certain he can hear two of the nobodies conversing a few alleys over, heedless of the utter silence of this world. Their words are indiscernible to Riku, hidden by the low buzzing coming from the many neon lights in the city, but the vibrations of their voice can be heard. Riku bends down to Pluto, checking that his collar is fitted properly and the hidden microphone and tracer invisible unless it is looked for.

The dog licks at his face, and Riku smiles down at him sadly.

“I hate for you to do this, but you don’t need to stay there long, okay?” Another lick is the response he gets to his whispered words, and Riku rubs behind his ears gently. The voices can still be heard, and Riku gives him a gentle pat on his rump as signal to leave. Pluto does so, nails tapping off the ground quietly as he looks back once and then runs, off towards the voices and his ticket into the castle.

Riku smiles, before he slowly heads back to the quiet alley he had appeared in.

He is nearly there, crossing the square where Memory’s Skyscraper looms tall above the city, when he feels the air move behind him. He pauses in his walk, eyebrows furrowed in confusion: he can hear no one around, and he is fairly certain that most of the city is empty at this time of the eternal night.

Someone grabs his wrist, long cold fingers wrapping around it in a tight and desperate hold. The world flashes before his eyes, strangely misted and out of focus, and Riku catches a glimpse of brunet hair and red and blue clothing before it disappears and he is left standing there in the square, alone.

The phantom pressure on his wrist disappears, and Riku summons his keyblade in panic. He has only ever experienced such a warp in reality once before, and he does not know for sure that Zexion was ever killed.

But the grip had not felt _threatening_ , and if it weren’t so preposterous he would have suggested that it was _Sora_ there on the other end of the touch. It cannot be Sora, he knows, because that would mean Sora was awake, and if he was then Riku wouldn’t be _here_ , risking his life in The World that Never Was just to catch a glimpse of the nobody who supposedly wears Sora’s face.

Sending his keyblade away once he is satisfied he is truly alone, Riku hurries his pace towards the alley so he can open a corridor of darkness.

He tries to ignore the fingernail imprints on his skin.

* * *

Sora’s learned to control it.

Or, at least, he thinks he has. In truth, he thinks the only reason he is able to maintain his current location is because he cannot remember any others. Each time he remembers a new one the world shifts, but only until an invisible hand plucks the memory back from his mind and attaches it elsewhere, and Sora is left on the beach at Destiny Islands.

He’s sitting on the tree trunk: most of what he can remember takes place here, and despite the lack of _anyone_ around, the air smells of coconut sun cream and sweat. Every so often he sees a bird flying overheard, but aside from that and the sound of the waves lapping gently on the shore, Sora can hear _nothing_.

He does not think he can ever remember the Island being so quiet. At the very least, it would ring out with his and Riku’s peals of laughter.

As if summoned merely by his thoughts, Riku appears.

It is not dramatic: there is no _pop_ , no flash of light or crack of thunder. He is simply sitting alone one moment, and the next Riku is there below him, leaning against the trunk of the tree with his arms folded.

Sora knows this is not a memory: Riku is wearing that black coat again, and his hair is longer than Sora has ever seen it in his life.

“Riku?”

He says it delicately, unsure if he is really seeing him here or if it is some strange concoction of his mind. But Riku’s eyes open, and he looks up at Sora with an eyebrow raised before he rolls his eyes.

“Unbelievable.” He turns back to look over the ocean, a frown on his lips. “First night of sleep in days, and I dream of you.”

He pauses, his frown deepening.

“You’re not dreaming, Riku.” Sora says, and then frowns himself, because if _he_ is dreaming then surely Riku is too? Riku scoffs before him.

“Yeah yeah, says the lazy goon who has been asleep the last twelve weeks…” He trails off, unfolding his arms and looking down at his hands in confusion. He stands there another moment, before he pushes off the tree and walks around it twice. Sora watches him, twisting to keep his eyes on Riku to be sure he doesn’t disappear, and Riku comes to a stop just in front of Sora.

He reaches out a hand, careful but unsure, and flinches when it comes into contact with Sora’s cheek.

“What the _fuck_.”

Sora reaches up a hand to wrap around Riku’s wrist, the one that is near his face, and gives him a pleading look.

“Don’t panic. I’ve been here for _ages_.”

Riku snatches his hand back, but Sora grabs for it again, pleased to have someone here who is _tangible_.

“I’m lucid dreaming, that has got to be it. How am I lucid dreaming?”

“I don’t know, but please, _don’t leave_.”

Riku tries to pull away again, his face stricken as Sora holds his wrist tightly. He doesn’t want to be alone again. “Riku, why can’t I wake up?”

Sora didn’t think it possible for Riku’s face to look any more grief-stricken, but the look of overwhelming sadness that takes over his features is enough to make him let go of Riku’s wrist.

“You’re asleep, Sora. Until you get better.”

“But why am I here?”

Riku takes a step back, convinced he is lucid dreaming in the middle of an utter _nightmare_ , but Sora is looking at him with those pleading blue eyes that beg him not to leave, but he can’t answer these questions _because it’s a fucking dream_.

Sora leaps to his feet as Riku takes another step backwards, but he is too slow to move, and Riku falls back off the ledge.

There is no splash of water.

* * *

Riku jolts awake in a cold sweat, his breathing heavy and his heart racing from the fall.

Something is suffocating him, pulling tight at his neck and chest and leaving him wheezing: Riku nearly summons his keyblade, until a look down confirms that it is merely a blue and white blanket, draped over his body for warmth. It must have gotten tangled and ridden up as he slept.

He doesn’t know if DiZ or Namine placed it and, quite frankly, he’s not sure he wants to.

Riku checks his wrist: three distinct red lines run across it, consistent with long fingers holding it tightly.

He’s on his feet a rapid heartbeat later, heavy boots clunking on the wooden floor as he rushes over to his knapsack, the blanket still pulled over his shoulders and chest. Riku rummages through the bag helplessly, in search of the potion for dreamless sleep that DiZ had _promised_ would work. He hopes that the bottle is only half full, but when he pulls the little blue glass from his pack it is empty. He had drained the whole lot.

Then why the _fuck_ is he dreaming?

Riku throws the bottle at the wall, where it shatters on impact and falls to the floor, blue glass glinting in the low light of the sun.

* * *

Riku doesn’t sleep for days.

The first day he is _fine_. A little bit irritable, and prone to yawning far too much when DiZ gives him another place to scout out, but Riku summons a dark portal with no issues and tries not to cry when it opens out in Agrabah.

The heat is too much, his coat too heavy, and Riku can’t keep his focus on the Organization members for long enough. It very _nearly_ gets him killed, but by some amazing stroke of luck the pair he ends up tracking is Sora’s nobody and the older lazy blond. The keyblade is summoned by Roxas, but the older blond simply throws him into the desert on a huge wave of water before they flee, and Riku can almost cry with relief as his body temperature _plummets_.

The second day he snaps at Namine, all anger and frustration coiled tightly inside him, and it makes him feel like _shit_ immediately after. Namine withdraws from him with her arms clutched to her chest, and Riku feels sick to know that _he_ has put that flicker of fear into her eyes. She is a person, no matter what DiZ says, and she doesn’t deserve his anger.

The third day he lulls between pondering _why_ he sees Sora in his dreams even under the influence of a powerful drug, and staring blankly ahead in the library. Riku ignores the look in Namine’s eyes, the one of sudden realisation and understanding: he spills his hot tea down the front of his coat when his arm muscles jerk, and she _knows_. He doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep for the briefest of seconds until he spills the hot liquid all over his pants, and Namine rushes off to find a towel.

The fourth day, he throws his keyblade at the chandelier in the dining room, and watches with a detached satisfaction when it falls to the table and smashes it in two. The table splinters loudly, legs buckling outwards even as it tears in the centre. Riku has a heated argument with Sora in the corner of the room, before DiZ bursts in _with a fucking crossbow (where the fuck did he get that)_ , Namine behind him with that worry in her eyes.

Riku looks back to the corner, and realises he is hallucinating.

The fifth day, Namine begs him to _go to sleep_ , he is only dreaming, but Riku doesn’t quite think they are just dreams. That potion had been _powerful_ , and the first time he had used it he hadn’t dreamt for days. Combined with finding Sora in his dreams and the marks on his wrist both in the World that Never Was and that morning after, he’s not so sure they’re _just_ dreams.

Day six and Riku cannot speak properly, and Namine decides that enough is _enough_. She sneaks into the library and waits hidden behind a curtain until Riku enters one of his micro-sleeps on the settee. The moment his eyes close, she darts out and places two delicate fingers onto his forehead.

Riku’s eyes dart open at the contact, and he _knows_ before he even registers what she is doing. The last thing he sees as he shakes his head in defeat and mutters a desperate _no_ are eyes the colour of Kairi’s.

Namine pulls the blanket from the end of the settee over his shaking body, and whispers an apology as she ensures he will sleep for a day.

* * *

Sora doesn’t know how much time has passed since he last saw Riku. Some of his memories are bleeding back, but just as he grasps them in his mind they disappear again. The only constant is Riku, and the memories involving him.

The sun never sets, but Sora is fairly certain it has been at least a few hours since they spoke last, when he feels that now-familiar sense of vertigo before the world shifts and warps and cracks around him.

One moment the breeze is blowing on his face, and the next he is back in that strange world of skyscrapers and neon lights, and there is _Riku_. He is softer and yet harsher, no longer clad in that black coat but looking far paler and much sicker, and Sora wants to reach out and smooth away the crease in his forehead.

“Riku!”

Something sets in Riku’s shoulders: he tenses the moment Sora’s words hit his ears, and Sora notices the dark circles under his eyes.

But Riku is half gone with confusion and fear by this point, terrified that somehow Sora is really infiltrating his dreams, and he _needs_ a way to confirm if this is real or not. So Riku storms over to Sora, prepared to do the one thing he _knows_ will prove if this is a dream or not.

Sora registers Riku’s knuckles brushing along his jaw, before the hand cups the back of his neck and he is pulled into a desperate and _hard_ kiss. It is unlike anything he would ever have imagined in his wildest of dreams, for Riku is harsh and unyielding, pushing Sora’s lips open with his tongue as their teeth clack, almost as if he is _trying_ to make Sora uncomfortable.

But it doesn’t work, for Sora finds it _thrilling_ and pushes back with equal eagerness, and when his tongue slides against Riku’s it is warm and wet and _sloppy_. He reaches out to grab at Riku’s jacket, but the older teen suddenly pushes him away with a look of relief and disappointment on his face.

Sora can’t deny the pang of hurt that resonates through his chest, when Riku runs his hand over his face and through his hair.

“It’s just a dream. It’s _just_ a dream.”

“What? Riku, what are you talking about? I told you, it’s _me_.”

But Riku laughs almost sardonically into the empty silence around them, and Sora wonders when it began to drizzle. The black floor glints with the moisture, and the whole city looks slick and bright in the neon lights.

“Sora, if it were really you, you wouldn’t have let me do that. You love _Kairi_.”

And Sora frowns, his nose scrunching at the thought, because he loves Kairi but not like he loves _Riku_. The silver-haired teen in question keeps talking.

“I’m just projecting my own feelings into my dreams, which is fine.”

Sora could hit him. He tries to, but Riku moves out of the way with a frown.

“You’re so stupid!” Sora lunges for him again, but Riku has always been faster, knocking his fist out of the way effortlessly. “How many times do I have to tell you! This is _me_!”

Riku shakes his head.

“But you don’t want me like you want Kairi. Like I want you.” Sora supposes that the bitterness in his words is down to how he thinks this is all in his own head: the cocky bravado that is Riku isn’t here. Sora wonders how many times Riku has thought of this scenario, imagined Sora’s rejection or acceptance of his love in face of a confession from Riku, and it stings that Riku thinks it characteristic of Sora to _reject_ it.

Sora lunges again, and this time manages to clock Riku right on the jaw. There isn’t much force behind it, but Riku recoils regardless and looks at Sora as though he were _expecting_ it.

“Riku, _this is real_. I think. And I never chose Kairi, because it was _you_. Always has been, you asshole.”

But Riku shakes his head again, and Sora’s frustration rises. He pushes at Riku’s chest, and this time the older teen allows it as he rubs at his jaw. Sora shoves him again, desperate to prove through the contact alone that Riku is really _here_ with him, in this warped reality where his surroundings change at will and he cannot make himself wake up, where his memories are broken and splintered and Riku remains the only thing he _thinks_ he knows.

Sora’s hands pass through Riku on the third shove, and there is the briefest look of panic crossing both of their features before the world changes again, and Sora is back on sandy ground.

The island rings with the sounds of his frustrated screams.

* * *

When Riku wakes up, Namine is perched on a chair near his head, drawing book resting on her lap.

He’d be creeped out if he didn’t find her presence so comforting, for her eyes are focused on his face with that piercing gaze of hers.

“I was wrong.”

Riku feels as though he’s been hit by tram in Twilight Town: however long he has slept, it has not been enough to override his decision not to sleep for a week. He feels sluggish as he sits up on the settee, one hand running through knotted hair before Namine’s words sink in.

He peeks at her through his fingers, rubbing at his eyes to clear the sleep residue.

“Wrong about what?”

Namine twists the corner of a page between her fingers as she looks down at her sketch, and Riku frowns. He cannot see the picture clearly, but he can tell it is a scene from Destiny Islands. The blonde witch takes a deep breath before she pins him with that gaze once more.

“I don’t see Sora’s memories in the way you think I can. I see them as a chain, and his memories reside in every link. I broke that chain in Castle Oblivion, and I’ve kept it broken as I put his memories back in order.” She pauses, chews at her lip. “But I still can see the whole chain. And, when I was working yesterday, I discovered something.”

Riku looks at her, waiting for the bombshell of a revelation he is sure she is about to deliver. But what is it? He knows that Roxas has some of Sora’s memories, and that he needs to be retrieved before Sora can ever wake up, and he’s aware that some of Sora’s memories are bleeding into the girl who looks like Kairi, but somehow he doesn’t think that is what Namine is talking about.

“What did you find?”

“The chain is getting longer, new memories are being created.”

She looks at him pointedly, waiting for him to realise what it is she is trying to tell him. But Riku is too exhausted from his own foolishness, and so he stares at her owlishly until she actually blows her breath out in an impatient sigh at him.

“Your dreams, Riku, they’re not just dreams. Sora’s heart reached out and connected with yours, and when you sleep it finds a way to communicate with you. You aren’t dreaming those meetings with him, he’s reaching out for you.”

Namine would really love to know _what_ is going on in those dreams, because the colour drains from Riku’s face in about five seconds, and she is intrigued enough that her eyebrow quirks in curiosity. Riku sees it, and hides behind his hands.

“No, _no_.”

She gives him a small smile, back to her timid self now that she no longer has anything to say. Riku doesn’t even look at her as he nods sharply; he simply sits there, one leg tucked beneath him and the other brought to his chest as he rests his chin on his knee, staring into the corner of the room.

Namine is at the door when he speaks again, and she holds back a smile when she hears him mutter into the silence of the room.

“Ah, _shit_.”

* * *

It’s another thirty-six hours before Riku sleeps again, though this time the refraining is through no will of his own. Roxas, and the red-headed organization member who acts like his best friend (and Riku narrows his eyes at that, because what he’s seeing indicates _far_ more on both their parts and it only proves his suspicions about nobodies and hearts), end up in _Twilight Town_ for their damned mission, and DiZ makes him tail them all day.

The instructions are to capture Roxas if possible, but Riku knows within twenty minutes of watching them that he’s not going to be able to separate them long enough to do so.

So Riku watches them for nearly twelve hours, before he is then forced to hover around the gates to the Mansion to be sure that _they_ aren’t scouting out _him_.

When he closes his eyes and opens them again, he has no idea where he is, and Sora isn’t there.

Wherever he is, it’s beautiful. The gardens around him are well maintained, and he can see several sparring rings dotted around the garden. The sky is a deep dark blue, and the gardens are lit by several lamps and strings of fairy lights. There’s a mountain path, and above him there’s a gigantic castle of yellow and green, familiar in a way that makes his stomach drop briefly.

There’s a wooden bench and a cut in the cliff with enough space for three people to watch the stars, and he can hear water trickling nearby. And on the bench is _Roxas_.

Riku briefly panics, because there is _no_ reason Roxas should be in Sora’s dreams or his heart, because _that’s the whole problem_ involving Roxas, and this cannot be possible. But as he approaches, it becomes clear that it’s not quite Roxas sitting there watching the stars.

It’s the double of Roxas, that is for certain, but the man sitting on the bench is older. His face is slimmer, his legs a little longer, and he sits there with an innocent confidence that he knows from observations that Roxas lacks. Riku suspects he might even be older than himself, though if he is it’s only by a few years. His eyes are the same colour as Sora’s, and Riku won’t deny that there is a certain attractiveness to his face.

It’s also apparent that he can’t see Riku. His eyes don’t move from the view as Riku comes into his line of sight, and Riku feels something shift in his chest at the look of such _sadness_ on his face. He looks both lost and lonely, a broken shell glued back together incorrectly. The thing in his chest shifts again, a matching feeling of despondency bubbling up behind his throat as it rises from deep within the darkness in his heart, and Riku cannot explain the ache as he fights back tears at the sight.

Riku swallows thickly, pushing down on that surge of _Ansem,_ wondering what connection that man has to the despondent and _empty_ man sitting on the bench. He reaches out to touch him, to move his shoulder and shake him out of his reverie, but the moment Riku’s fingers touch him the world falls out beneath him.

The sky brightens, and the castle is nowhere to be seen.

He’s back on Destiny Islands. Sora sits before his outstretched hand, sitting on the tree trunk and staring at him with his mouth open.

“What the-?”

“Sora!” Riku surges forward, wrapping Sora in a hug tight enough it _hurts_. A part of him, the prideful part that always arises near Sora, tells him to let go and stop being such a _sap_ , but Riku reminds himself that he’s only seen Sora properly _once_ in nearly a year, and he’d been locking himself on the other side of the door to darkness. The time before that, he’d been hell-bent on killing him, and so Riku allows himself this.

A laugh escapes Sora’s lips as he returns the embrace, before he wiggles out of Riku’s grip and pushes the other boy back.

“Thought you thought this was just a dream.” His words aren’t sharp, but Riku flinches anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Sora laughs again, and shakes his head. “S’okay, I’d have been freaked out too.”

* * *

It goes like that for months.

Riku forgets about the encounter with the strange Roxas lookalike, and he never encounters him again. Namine confesses that she has no idea _when_ Sora became aware, and Riku feels even more terrible for doubting his friend for so long.

He more than makes up for it, however. Each time he sleeps, Sora is always there, and they spend what feels like hours talking and discussing everything that is going on. Riku tries to fill him in on all of the details whilst still keeping the existence of Roxas a secret. Some nights, they simply watch the ocean, others they spend curled up against each other in the sand or in the shack. Some nights Riku apologises constantly, the darkness in his heart rising, and he begs forgiveness already given to him for his actions after he opened the door in the cave. Other nights, he captures Sora’s confession of love against his lips and nearly cries when he awakens.

Sora sleeps in the pod, and though Riku has his dreams, it is not _quite_ the same as waking up cold without his best friend _there_. He remembers his dreams, but he cannot remember the feel of Sora’s lips against his own.

But they are stronger for the dreams. Their bond has deepened, the holes in their friendship repaired, and Riku’s favourite dreams are the ones where they lay on the beach, joined only at the hands. Kairi’s absence is at its most painful there, especially now that Sora can remember her.

Sora has been asleep for three hundred and three days, when Namine drops another bombshell on him.

They had been expecting her progress to grind to a halt: it had been the logical conclusion, after Xion had spent her few days with Riku and the latter had discovered she was storing some of Sora’s memories. Once Roxas’ power began being leeched by her, it was only a matter of time before Namine lost the threads.

But that is not the news that hurts.

What _does_ hurt, is when DiZ urges Riku to force action, and he sends Xion to Namine. Whatever the blonde witch uncovers, he is not certain of, but she relays some of it to him that very evening. He plans to see Mickey the next day, knowing that he must get Roxas _soon_ , and Namine enters the room with the pod with her sketchbook clutched tightly to her chest.

“There is something you should know.”

Riku feels his heart drop into his stomach, because _none_ of her updates lately have been positive. She stands next to him in front of the pod, and looks up at him hesitantly.

“I have suspected this for a long time, but I now know for sure that I’m right.”

Riku cocks an eyebrow at her, but otherwise says nothing. She continues.

“I put restrictions on him, when he got into the pod. Nothing from Castle Oblivion would be remembered. He would never remember anything from the moment he reached the crossroads.”

Riku closes his eyes as she glances down at her book, partly in fear and partly in resignation. He _knows_ , he just _knows_ what she means.

“So the last few months, none of that…” He pauses, a frown on his lips. Namine nods.

“He will remember nothing. None of your dreams, your conversations, nothing. His heart will remember it, but his mind will not.”

Riku runs a hand through his hair: his fingers catch on several knots, but he yanks his fingers through them hopelessly.

“You can’t reverse it?”

The witch shakes her head.

“I was _scared_. I thought I would be tempted to keep myself in his memories. I made it irreversible. Riku, I didn’t _know_ he would do this.” She sounds remorseful, and so upset that Riku almost wants to comfort her.

“None of it?”

“I’m sorry.”

Riku looks up at the pod. It’s open, as it has been for the last few weeks as Namine’s work ground to a halt. Sora’s face is expressionless as always, and Riku feels the weight of what Namine is saying slam into his chest.

 _None_ of it. The fixed friendship, the apologies, the laughter and the intimacy, _gone_. Sora will wake up oblivious to it all, unaware of Riku’s regrets and his attempts to make things _right_.

“I put these together. Just because he will forget, doesn’t mean you have to.” She holds out the sketchpad, and Riku tears his eyes away from Sora to open it.

The first drawing is of the World that Never Was, a spring of colour in a world of black, but Riku can make out himself and Sora in the centre before Memory’s Skyscraper. The second one is of Riku hugging Sora as he sits on the tree trunk, and he can see that she has put more detail into this particular one.

Riku closes the sketchpad, unwilling to look at the rest whilst trying to process his emotions.

He feels that ache in the back of his throat again, the one that signals tears oncoming, and Namine reaches out and takes his hand in her own. She squeezes gently, but Riku grips back with a strength that is almost painful.

He focuses on her hold: it’s the only thing that stops him from falling apart.

* * *

Sora knows something is wrong when Riku appears again.

He is subdued from the moment he arrives: he lowers his eyes to the floor, and though his hair blows in his face he makes no effort to push it away. Sora wonders when it got so long.

“What’s happened?”

Riku lifts his eyes from the sand. He looks unsure, his lips turned down in a frown: Sora had almost forgotten what he looked like without a smile. He has spent so much of the time here, in the between, with Riku’s cocksure smile or carefree grin, offering the escape from the events of the outside world.

Riku leans back against the tree trunk, his eyes hard as he looks out over the ocean. Sora watches him, not daring to move or offer a comforting hand on the shoulder.

“I need to face someone tomorrow. I might not come back, and if I do I won’t be the same.”

Sora shuffles closer, his fingers skimming the strands of Riku’s hair as he rests a hand on his back. The sun is bright, but Riku feels cold.

“C’mon Riku, _no one_ can beat you.”

Riku’s laugh is almost painful, and he looks up at Sora with a wry grin.

“He _is_ a nobody, so I wouldn’t be so sure.” He says, and Sora cocks his head to the side. Riku has explained the concept of the nobodies, even if he _has_ avoided the topic of Roxas, and he feels he should tell him now whilst he still can. It’s not like he will remember, after all. “Sora, I’ll be fighting your nobody.”

Riku breathes out a sigh as he speaks, and Sora removes his hand from Riku.

“You told me I didn’t have a nobody, not one powerful enough to be human.”

“I lied, I’m sorry.”

Sora doesn’t say anything for nearly a minute. He watches the ocean, trying to comprehend that somewhere out there is a _person_ who is both him and not him. He wonders what they look like. Do they have the same eyes? The same hair? It’s like finding out he has a brother. Can they wield the keyblade?

“What’s he like?”

Riku looks up at him, green eyes sad in the light of the sun. Sora is sure he looks confused and sad himself, trying to understand why Riku needs to go and fight this person that is an extension of his own heart. Riku shifts, turning to lean against the tree on his side as he stares at Sora’s face.

“His name is Roxas. He’s a lot like you, Sora. He spends a lot of his time with his friend, a guy who fights with fire. They sit on the clock tower a lot, eating ice cream. He’s got a temper, a lot like your own, and I think he has your eyes. His hair is blond, though, and his face is different.”

Sora frowns.

“I do _not_ have a temper.”

Riku laughs, his mood lightening quickly, and Sora smiles back.

“Why do you need to fight him?”

Riku’s laughter dies out, and he looks at Sora with a stricken expression on his face. Sora feels his heart drop into his stomach at the expression, because it doesn’t signal anything good.

“Sora, he has some of your memories. If we don’t join him with you, you’ll never wake up.”

Sora’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Does he _want_ to do that?”

“No. It’s why I have to fight him. I have to wake you up.”

Sora pushes himself off the trunk so he is standing, and looks at Riku incredulously.

“Riku! You can’t do that to him, you can’t force him to give himself up.” Sora flounders, looking for words to express his horror at the idea of another person disappearing just to wake him up. “He sounds like his own person, Riku. You can’t take that away from him.”

“Sora, I don’t have a choice. We need you, the _worlds_ need you. I can’t wake you up without him.”

Sora takes a step back from him, shaking his head furiously at the words that leave Riku’s mouth.

“Then I don’t want to wake up! You can’t get rid of a person just for me, I don’t _want_ you to do that!”

Riku reaches forward, to stop Sora from backing away, but Sora flinches out of his grasp.

“Sora, _listen_. We don’t have a choice, I can’t let you sleep any longer-“

“I don’t care! Riku _please_ , there’s got to be another way. Please, don’t kill him.” Without warning, a wave of guilt overwhelms Sora, and he feels tears pricking at his eyes. He _cannot_ let Riku force his nobody to join with him, not if he doesn’t _want_ to. Sora won’t be responsible for ruining a life. “Keep me asleep for as long as you need me to be, but please don’t do this.”

Riku manages to grab at Sora’s wrist, and for the first time since this world erected around him Sora realises that Riku has had the mother of all growth spurts since he went to sleep. Where once he was merely a little taller than Sora, he is now bigger in every sense of the word: taller, more muscled, and his presence alone dwarfs Sora’s. With his own lanky arms, Sora feels a little upset.

In the year that he has been asleep, Riku has grown from a boy into a man, and he’s willing to cross unthinkable lines to ensure Sora wakes up.

He yanks his hand out of Riku’s grip and takes several steps back.

“Please, Riku, _don’t do it_.”

“I have to.”

Sora feels his heart pulling back as it cracks under the guilt and the sadness. He doesn’t wish to face it, the knowledge that he will either lose Riku in a battle to his nobody, or lose him to the darkness as he hands over one life for another.

He takes another step back, anger rising within his chest and settling into his bones. He feels rather than sees Riku reach out once more, before the world warps and changes. Riku disappears from before him as the world remakes itself, buildings splintering and cracking as Destiny Islands reshapes itself into Traverse Town.

Riku is forced awake with a gasp, feeling like he has been grabbed and crushed and stuffed back into a body that doesn’t fit. The bark of the tree he has fallen asleep against digs into his back, and he can feel sweat dripping from his hair behind his ears and down his neck.

He tries to go back to sleep, even as a fox wanders on the outskirts of his vision and the light of the moon shines through a gap in the trees onto his face, but his dreams are empty.

* * *

Sora’s not sure how much time has passed, when Riku appears once more. If Sora thought he looked bad before, it’s nothing compared to this. Riku looks both traumatised and broken, beaten but unyielding, and he simply looks at Sora with an unmoving gaze when he appears before him.

“Did you do it?”

Riku nods.

“Is he… is he okay?”

Riku bites at his lip, before he drops down into the sand and leans back against the trunk with his legs tucked beneath him.

“Sora he…” Riku falters, the words in his mind not translating to his mouth properly, and he purses his lips tightly. “He’s fine.”

Sora pushes himself off the trunk, and sits next to Riku in the sand. The silver haired teen is looking at his hands and his arms, running his fingers over his face as though he can’t quite believe he is _himself_.

“What were you gonna say?” Sora prods, eager to know what has happened. Riku had said he wouldn’t be the same, so what went on?

“DiZ told me they were only nobodies, they couldn’t have feelings. I knew it wasn’t true but… he’s been fighting for hours, trying to get in. To save him.”

“ _Who_ , Riku?”

Riku shakes his head, his hair falling into his face before he pulls it away in frustration and tucks it behind his ears. Sora smiles a little at the gesture.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be whole, soon, and awake.”

Sora nods. He can have his argument with Riku when he wakes up, and can try to find a way to save Roxas. He can do nothing from this world of in between.

“You weren’t injured in the fight, were you?” Sora asks, and Riku shakes his head in the negative.

“I’m fine, physically.” Riku pauses again, debating in his own mind, before he decides to tell Sora it all: he won’t remember, after all. “Sora, I look like _him_. All the things he made me do, the months of him in my head _whispering_ , and I look in the mirror and I look like _him_.”

Sora places his hand on Riku’s forearm and squeezes it gently, a show of comfort that stops Riku’s hands from shaking.

“We’ll find a way to fix it.”

Riku looks down at his hands again.

“I tried so hard to push him down, to get rid of him, and I had to _be_ him to defeat Roxas.” Riku laughs helplessly and runs his free hand through his hair, and Sora taps his fingers on Riku’s wrist to give him something to focus on.

“You’re still _you_ , Riku. We can fix it when I wake up, don’t worry.” Sora’s smile is sunny and comforting, and Riku lifts his hand to brush his fingers along his jaw.

“I’ve missed you.”

Sora beams.

“You’ll see me soon. How long until I can wake up?”

“Hours, Sora. Namine is nearly finished. When she’s done, you’ll be exactly as you were before.” Riku can’t bring himself to tell Sora he will forget it all, but Sora picks up on the drop in his mood immediately.

“Riku, why are you so sad?”

But Riku doesn’t answer, merely smiles at him with what Sora would _swear_ are tears in his eyes. He chalks it up to the effects of having to live with the face of his tormentor, and doesn’t push. He’s never seen Riku cry, and he can’t bring himself to break that streak.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours, but Sora knows is more likely no longer than half an hour. Riku is gathering his thoughts, and Sora knows when to leave him be. He’s curious, though.

“When I wake up, will you be there with me?”

Riku frowns, as though the thought of that had never even crossed his mind. His gaze moves from the ocean to Sora, and he shrugs.

“I’m not sure.”

“Please, Riku. I need you there.”

Surprisingly, the older teen nods. “Okay, Sora.”

Sora grins, and his smile warms Riku’s heart.

“Will you promise me you’ll be there? Pinky promise?” And Sora holds out his hand, little finger outstretched, and Riku rolls his eyes at the gesture.

“I promise.”

“Riku!”

“Fine! Damned overgrown child.” Riku lifts his hand and wraps his finger around Sora’s: the brunet gives his hand a shake to seal the promise, and once Riku lets go he leans his head on the older teen’s shoulder.

“You better be there, Riku. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Riku kisses him, leans down to capture his lips in his own. It is slow and sad, a desperate kind of wish to remember everything about how Sora feels beneath him.

Sora kisses back with equal gentleness, and wonders why it feels like a goodbye.

* * *

Riku presses the green buttons on the control pads for Donald and Goofy’s pods. The countdown on the pad begins, displaying ‘04:59’ before it begins beeping, every second another changing digit.

“Take care of him, you couple of dorks.”

He turns, heading into the room with Sora’s pod. Namine is standing in there with her sketchpad held to her chest with her folded arms. The lights on the floor leading to the pod are glowing blue, as the pod begins its own deactivation.

Roxas is gone, there one moment and scattering away like dust the next. Nothing remains to prove his existence, no clothing or journal or worldly possession to mark his impression on the world. All that remains is the guilt in Riku’s heart, and the grief in Axel’s.

Riku puts a hand on Namine’s shoulder. She is full of her own sadness, knowing that Sora will never remember her, and knowing that Riku cannot keep her safe from here on out. He plans to leave her with Axel: he does not trust DiZ to keep her safe, not after his _disposal_ orders.

He opens a dark corridor, and the two of them give one last look to the open pod. Sora is beginning to move, and Riku knows they’ve only got seconds before Donald and Goofy will be out of their own pods. He’s not _quite_ eager to face the inevitable disaster that would occur if they were to enter the room to find Sora in a pod and _Ansem_ standing before it.

Namine heads through the portal, her head down, and Riku follows.

He doesn’t look back.

* * *

He’s aware of beeping.

It’s muffled, as though occurring in another room, and Sora pushes through the tide of darkness around him. His eyes won’t open, but there’s something _there_ he needs to chase in his mind. A castle that disappears, a flash of blonde and white, red hair and pink flowers and _fire_. Silver hair and chapped lips on his own, a pinky promise with a woman to never forget her and a heart shackled with the wrong chain. He tries to focus, to remember them properly, but they scatter into the wind and disappear as he reaches out for them.

Sora opens his eyes, the thoughts lost and the memories gone forever. He pushes at the glass in front of him, hearing a _Sora_ through it. Has he been _sleeping_?

He yawns as the glass pane opens outwards like the petal of a flower, and the room is white and sterile and _stark_. The only colours are from Donald and Goofy, at the bottom of the ramp and shouting his name eagerly.

How did he get from the crossroads, to _here_?

Sora jumps down from the pod and looks around the room. He gets the feeling he is missing something, but he can’t _quite_ put his finger on it. It feels as though someone is missing, and he glances to every corner of the clean room in hopes of seeing them.

He’s not sure why he thinks someone else should be here, but the feeling won’t leave him even as Donald and Goofy pull him into an embrace. And then they’re pulling him out of the room, and Sora takes another look back because _someone else_ should be here, right? There’s an uncomfortable nausea in his stomach, a disappointment that he can’t push down, and he shakes his head furiously because he doesn’t understand _why_.

The room is empty, and Sora feels his heart break.


End file.
